Uchuu no Kokoro Soul of the Universe
by sanit-une
Summary: Quatre tells the story of how he ended up killing the other four Gundam Pilots.


Uchuu no Kokoro (Soul of the Universe)  
  
Disclaimer- I don't own Gundam Wing or any of the Gundam Wing (or any other Gundam series). I am NOT making ANY MONEY off this fanfiction. I DO NOT own anything else mentioned in this fanfic... so you CAN NOT SUE ME; YOU DO NOT HAVE ANY REASON TO!  
  
Warnings- angst, song fic (at the end), a little confusion, physchological issues, shounen-ai  
  
Pairings- (hinted) 1x2x3x4x5  
  
Quote thingy (not in the fic)- "The Light of Darkness, the Light of Light, and the Light of One's Self are powerful forces. Apart they are strong; together they are unstoppable." - Sanit Une  
  
Quatre sat in the Psychiatrist's office. The window was barred and opened slightly, letting the breeze to flow through. But he could not blame them, considering what he had done; although her felt awfully caged in. He walked over to the window, staring out at the clear baby blue sky. The sunlight danced off the red brick buildings, brightening the glass windows, and the street below. However, with the light came the ever following shadow; or was the light following the shadow? Quatre could not say, nor could he tell which came first, the chicken or the egg?  
  
The door opened, as the Doctor entered. She was a blond, wearing a dark blue polyester suit, and black pumps. She was carrying a clipboard, and two ball point pens. She sat at the desk, quickly writing down her observations of Quatre. When she was done, she gazed up at Quatre, and smiled softly. The smile was reassuring for Quatre, since that 'fateful day'.  
  
"My name's Doctor Shadow Rae." She introduced herself.  
  
"My name's Quatre Raberba Winner; but you already knew that." Quatre uttered cordially.  
  
Doctor Rae raised her eyebrow. "I'm sorry, your name doesn't ring any bells."  
  
"Really, my name was all over the papers, and the news stations." Quatre straightened his spine.  
  
She shook her head. "I don't usually have the time to read the newspapers, or watch television." She sat forward. "Would you like to start the session?"  
  
Quatre stood up from the window sill, turning to the Doctor. "I guess that there is only one thing to do." Quatre sighed.  
  
"And what would that be, Mr. Winner?" Doctor Rae asked.  
  
"Please, call me Quatre." He walked over to the leather chez-louge, and sat down. "Where do all stories start, Doctor?"  
  
"The beginning." She retorted quickly.  
  
Quatre nodded; his expression remained frozen. This concerned Doctor Rae. Quatre bowed his head for a moment. "My memory is not all that great, for many events from the past have been blocked out by my subconscious." Quatre raised his head and stared directly at Doctor Rae.  
  
Doctor Rae blinked, slightly dazed and confused.  
  
"You are not the only one who has studied psychology, Doctor." Quatre smiled softly. "As for the beginning of my story," Quatre's smile vanished from his Arabian face. "It started on a day much like this. Actually, now that I recall, I was in the study of another home." Quatre raised his head, gazing out the barred window. "I was passive then; little did I know, that I was drifting into the shadow of my former self." He turned to the good Doctor. "Or was I being pushed? If you asked me that now, I couldn't tell you, for what I did in my past has confused me in my present." He glanced at the bars. "Although I can not blame your company for barring the windows, and securing all the exits."  
  
Doctor Rae blinked. 'Man' she thought, staring blankly at the blond before her. 'He's observant!'  
  
Quatre smiled, reassuring that he still felt some emotion. "I've been trained to be observant, Doctor." He clarified. "Shall I continue, Doctor?"  
  
Doctor Rae grabbed her ball point pen, and her clipboard with her notes, then nodded, calmly. "Yes."  
  
Quatre bowed his head momentarily, then gazed at the shadows of the bars from the window. "I was reading a book, although I do not remember the title. I heard voices down the hallway, and downstairs. They weren't very loud, but in the middle of a good scene any kind of distractions can be irritating. So the first thing I did was go to the source. I confronted those I lived with, requesting them to tone down their voices."  
  
"But?" Doctor Rae cut in, frantically writing her notes down.  
  
"I got nothing. Perhaps I got a 'sorry Quat', or something along those lines; but, still I received nothing." Quatre sighed heavily, turning to Doctor Rae. "Perhaps that was when it started," he tilted his head, looking up at the plain ceiling. "Or perhaps I crashed... fell into a deep vortex that grew with time." Quatre sighed again, dropping his gaze to the blond Doctor. "I could feel my blood slowly boil as I became the target of many pranks, and the butt end of jokes and insults." He hissed softly. "But they never intended that I would ever snap, like I did that 'fateful day'."  
  
"They?" Doctor Rae raised her head. "Who is 'they'?" she asked.  
  
"'They' was the souls that I lived with, way back then." Quatre retorted.  
  
"May I ask their names?"  
  
Quatre thought for a moment. Their names were on the tips of his tongue; but the words or the pronounation would not pass his lips. "I'm afraid that their names, as well, have been blocked from my memory."  
  
Slightly disappointed, Doctor Rae smiled softly, reassuring Quatre's story. "That's quite all right Mr... I mean Quatre." She quickly jotted a few notes, then gazed back at Quatre. "I'm sure I can get someone to find them for me." She added, hoping that she hadn't frightened him into a state of withdrawal.  
  
Quatre smiled softly, reassuring Doctor Rae, that he would finish his story. "That day I'll almost never forget." He started his story again. "I highly doubt that anyone forgets a tuning point in their life," suddenly Quatre's expression melted from his lightly tanned face. "Or a screeching halt." He added with an icy snarl and a fierce flash in his watercolored eyes. "I'll never forget what the weather was like that 'fateful day'."  
  
"You keep saying that 'fateful day'; why is that?" Doctor Rae asked, frantically jotting a couple of notes.  
  
Quatre stared at Doctor Rae, with a slight grin on his face. "I've stated this before," he began. "I call it 'that fateful day' because my life took a sharp turn," he paused for a moment. "Or perhaps it came to a screeching halt."  
  
"I see." Doctor Rae jotted down a note, then raised her head to meet Quatre's sorrowful empty stare. "Go on."  
  
Quatre nodded. "The weather on that 'fateful day' was reflectant to what would happen next." He continued.  
  
"Could you describe the weather for me?" she asked cordially.  
  
Quatre blinked. It was a rather strange request, even for a psychiatrist; but he would answer her question. "The sky was covered by thick gray, heavy clouds. A light mist kissed the short green grass; although determining the color of anything that day just seemed to turn gray, and disappear against the sky. Then it began to rain, gently at first, then it progressively became heavier, harder... faster." Quatre hummed, almost laughing. "It's funny,"  
  
"What's funny, may I ask?" Doctor Rae looked up from her notes.  
  
"The rain almost predicted what I would do, and what would happen." Quatre clarified. "The morning was still young, and nothing really happened until noon."  
  
"What happened that morning?" Doctor Rae asked.  
  
"I became a walking target; mostly insults. But I took the insults with confidence; but, in reality, I was in pieces." Quatre got up and walked to the barred window. "I was hurting, bleeding inside, and they didn't understand it. They couldn't have." He sighed heavily. "I wanted them to feel my pain, to hurt like I hurt; to bleed." He turned to Doctor Rae. "I purposely avoided them for the morning, which did not help, by the way." He walked towards the chez-louge. The bright orange uniform itched Quatre's skin, making him feel slightly uncomfortable. "Who ever said that solitude calms your rage, has never met 'them'."  
  
"And by 'them' you mean those you lived with, right?" Doctor Rae lifted her ball point pen off the paper.  
  
Quatre nodded. "Yes," he confirmed.  
  
Doctor Rae jotted a quick note. "You may continue when ready, Quatre."  
  
"By early afternoon, I was a raging ball of fire, with a kind and sorrowful gaze. I never intended on doing what I had done; I just wanted them to understand my pain, and hurt like I had hurt. But," he sighed heavily, holding back the welling tears. "I was blinded by my own rage and disgust, that I couldn't see straight." He raised his kind face, meeting the Doctor's intent expression. "I know where they all were, just after lunch; they would be in the living room, and one would be in the study, in utter solitude. So I went to the study first, meeting the strongest of us all; he was reading." He walked back to the window. It was mid-afternoon now, and the sky was now beginning to cloud over. He stared through the bars, gripping them with his long fingers. "I don't remember what he said to me, all I know is that it seemed to feed the fires of my deepened unheard, unseen rage within my broken heart.  
  
"I lunged forward, screaming, roaring, or something. I could feel the tears rolling down my cheeks. I don't know what I grabbed, all I knew was that it was sharp, very sharp." His tone grew colder, and more malice. "My subconscious blocked out what I had done to him; but," he shined some light on the situation. "I do remember that he died with his eyes open." His tone grew slightly terrified. "I have never seen an expression or terror on his darkened bloody face, as I had beheld that 'fateful day'. As for the weather, it appeared to be getting progressively worse." He hummed for a moment. "It seemed to tell me that things would get even more terrible."  
  
"Hold on Mr... I mean, Quatre." Doctor Rae interrupted. "It's late in the afternoon, we should take a break." She suggested.  
  
Quatre walked over to the leather chez-louge and sat down. "I don't mind not taking a break; but if you need a break, I'll be more than happy to wait."  
  
Doctor Rae smiled nervously, as she rose from her leather chair. "All right then, I'll see you here in an hour." She walked over to the door and opened it.  
  
Two police officers entered, walking over to Quatre. One took his wrists and cuffed them behind his back. "We'll bring him back in an hour, to continue this session, Doctor Rae." The officer informed, as the second led Quatre out of the room.  
  
Quatre smiled cordially at Doctor Rae, as he past her, then bowed his head. This would give him time to think; but then again has five lifetimes to think about his crimes. Quatre would return to the silence that he now loathed with a passion. The silence that brought his heart and soul to the shadow; the same silence that fed the darkness that grew deep inside him.  
  
The press waited outside of the building, wanting a chance or a glimpse of the 'angel with the devil's heart'. They crowded around the Arab blond, blurting their questions and taking countless pictures, blinding him; like he wasn't already dazed and confused. The police officers shouted, pushing that journalists aside. They opened the vehicle cruiser for the back seat and ducked Quatre's head into the car. He felt like garbage... an old holly rag that nobody wanted; not even the feisty kitten.  
  
As the cruiser made its way to the penitentiary, Quatre began to think about the names of those he lived with, before that 'fateful day' occurred. His head remained bowed, as his mind drifted into thought, and his heart into the darkness. He strained to remember the name of the strongest. But, it wouldn't pass from his subconscious mind to his conscious mind; no matter how hard her willed it there, it would not budge.  
  
The cruiser halted, pulling Quatre forward, then back again; like the darkness that had consumed him.  
  
"C'mon Killer," the second officer teased in a vulgar tone, as he opened the cruiser's backseat door.  
  
The first officer pulled Quatre out of the cruiser. They led the Arab blond to the penitentiary. The other prisoners stared intently at the blond; their eyes filled with an unspoken terror. Although the Arab appeared weak... word had spread about the 'fateful day' that changed his life. The inmates feared him, the guards plagued him, sometimes even rapped him. But, Quatre didn't care. He stopped living on that 'fateful day'; or perhaps he died before then, he didn't really know. The question of 'When did I die?' constantly haunted his dreams, turning them into nightmares; but, the answer was not all that important now, he was dead, that was all that mattered.  
  
His cell slammed shut; Quatre was sitting on the bunk head bowed, and eyes cast down to the stone floor. His frail mind filtered out the generally population's comments, and pathetic guesses as to how he ended up there in the first place. The guards nor the warden would not tell them; it was none of their business. All that the inmates knew was that a weak kid, somehow brought down the strongest of soldiers with a letter opener.  
  
The silence came fast, and hard, bringing with it the darkness that fed on his heart, soul, and mind. Quatre was terrified to sleep; afraid to face the nightmares that lurked in his subconscious... watching, waiting to take him deep into the darkness that came with the silence. The jeers from his fellow inmates filled his mind.  
  
Quatre covered his ears, trying not to hear the jeers and shouts from the inmates; some even demanded to fight him. Quatre fell to the floor, on his knees, his hands still covered his ears.  
  
"STOP IT!" he shouted; but, there was no ending the jeers. Quatre's protests for them to 'STOP IT!' seemed to encourage them further, and made it worse.  
  
Suddenly the darkness consumed him; eating him alive. Quatre snarled, almost foaming at the mouth, as hi lunged for the bars of his cell. His fingers gripped the bars, as his angry Arab face peered from the darkness of the cell. He snarled again, almost like an angry cat. His watercolored eyes flashed and turned a horrendous shade of red, as his mouth began to foam. He sounded like an angry Jaguar; but he looked like a rabid puppy.  
  
The inmates hindered their jeers, and hid in their cells from Quatre's fiery stare. Even the guards were slightly terrified of him, now that he had this rabid thing going for him.  
  
Quatre pulled himself from the darkness, and back into a zone where he could control the darkness. He gazed at the guards terrified faces; their eyes dilated, and shaky. Feeling guilty of what he had done, he slunk back into his cell, and onto the bunk. He bowed his head, and returned to the silence that he loathed so much. But, at least the silence did not jeer at him from its cell.  
  
The hour passed ever so slowly for Quatre. When the officers came take Quatre, they were cautious around the Arab blond; since they had heard what Quatre had done. The officers that had been sent, were new to this; and Quatre was very aware of this. Though this was an advantage for Quatre; but, it was Quatre, he'd never take an unfair advantage in a situation like this.  
  
Quatre noted that the officers cuffed his wrists in front of him, rather then behind his back. As they led Quatre out to the cruiser, the fellow inmates of the blond, came to their barred windows. They stared intently as Quatre was put in the cruiser. The new officers slammed the backseat door. The inmates watched in wonder as the cruiser drove off, leaving a thin dusty smoke behind them.  
  
The officers pulled up to the building, where Quatre had been in an hour before. The first officer stepped out of the cruiser, and opened the backseat door, taking the prisoner out of the car. They walked into a horde of journalists and news reporters.  
  
Quatre kept his head bowed, and out of the sights of the vast sea of cameramen and photographers. It wasn't that he thought that his soul would be stolen; if that was the case, he would've walked with his head raised. But he kept his head bowed as a sign of his guilt; even though his subconscious kept his memories of that 'fateful day' hidden from his conscious mind. He was ashamed of what he had done, or at least what his lawyers and the police told him what he did.  
  
The officers led Quatre back to Doctor Rae's office. As they approached Doctor Rae's office, her receptionist halted them.  
  
"Oh," she uttered, slightly surprised. "Doctor Shadow Rae hasn't returned from her lunch break, yet." She informed the two officers, merely giving Quatre a passing glance.  
  
Quatre raised his head slightly, gazing into the receptionist's blue-violet eyes. Her eyes were slightly terrified; they spoke of Quatre's unmemorized actions that had been plastered all over the papers, back when he was indicted for the murders of four people. Although he did not remember their names; all he knew was that four were men, and one was a woman.  
  
The receptionist's smiled cordially at the two officers. "But she did leave a message here." She fumbled and flipped through the papers on her desk. "Ah!" she said finally, lifting a small piece of pink paper. "Here it is." She quickly read it, then rose from her seat, and walked over to Doctor Rae's office door. "You can wait for Doctor Rae in her office."  
  
The officers led Quatre into the room. Quatre hanging his burdened blond head.  
  
"Uh," the receptionist halted the officers. "The note states that you uncuff Quatre and let him wait in the office." She added, as the officers turned. She held the pink paper between her long slender fingers. "You two can wait outside of the door."  
  
The phone rang. The receptionist turned towards the phone. "Now if you'll excuse me, felles, I have a job to do." She returned to her seat, answering the phone. "Good afternoon, Doctor Rae's office..."  
  
The officers uncuffed Quatre, uncertain if they should keep the door open, or close it. They stood in the doorway; one was turned to Quatre, with a stern, anxious stare, while the other was turned slightly to the receptionist, unsure, and slightly uncomfortable.  
  
The receptionist turned to the officers, making a note of the expressions on their faces. "Ah, hold on one moment, please." She told the caller on the other line. She placed the palm of her hand on the receiver. "Wait outside of the room, gentlemen." She instructed, then returned to the caller on the other line. "No, she canceled all her appointments and meetings for the next couple of days." She added. "Yes, I know," she fumbled through some papers. "She can see you on Thursday afternoon..." she wrote something down in Doctor Rae's appointment book. "Fine, two o'clock Thursday afternoon; see you then, bye." She hung up the phone, and sat down. She turned to the officers, smiling softly. "You two must be new." She assumed.  
  
The officers nodded their response. Surely there could be no harm in them talking to the receptionist.  
  
"Figures," she mumbled.  
  
"What was that?" one of the officers demanded, acting offended.  
  
The receptionist blinked. "Look," she began. "The Police has a habit of never sending the same officers anywhere, twice." She sighed. "Luckily for you, the prisoner you brought here is kind to newbies."  
  
The officers blinked and looked at each other, then back at the receptionist. "What are you talking about?" the second officer asked.  
  
The receptionist turned the chair towards the officers. "You cuffed him wrong." She began. "You should cuff his hands behind his back, and not in front of him." She smiled softly, raising her head slightly. "Luckily for you, he doesn't take advantage of officers like that." She winked, then turned the chair back to her desk. "Doctor Rae should be back from lunch, soon." She informed the officers.  
  
The elevator doors opened, revealing a rather exhausted Doctor Rae. She carried several files in her arms, and a spare pad of yellow loose leaf (lined paper). She walked up to the receptionist, and nodded. The receptionist smiled graciously, handing her the note.  
  
"Is Mr. Winner waiting in my office?" Doctor Rae inquired, as she took the note from the receptionist, in between her index and middle fingers.  
  
"Yes he is." She retorted, with a slight nod.  
  
"Has he bee waiting long?"  
  
The receptionist shook her head gently- no.  
  
"Great." Doctor Rae sighed, turning to her office.  
  
One of the officers jumped to his feet, opening the office door for Doctor Rae. "Doctor," he smiled slightly.  
  
"Ah, thanks." She returned the smile.  
  
As Doctor Rae entered, she encountered Quatre as she first met him; standing at the barred open window, with no expression on his face. She sensed Quatre's mental strain to force himself to remember the names of those he lived with. She now found herself slightly relieved and regretful. She was relieved to now know the names of the others, or 'them' as Quatre stated; but, she regretted pulling the files on his case.  
  
Quatre turned, the shadowed bars covered his Arab face. Doctor Rae found herself thinking; jail cell bars do no Justice for him, nor is the bright orange his color, either. Quatre forced a weak smile, followed by a heavy wishful sigh. He walked over to the chez-louge; although, he wanted to drag his feet and hang his head in shame. Quatre sat down, his right arm dropped to his side, and his left hand was placed on his left knee.  
  
Doctor Rae, turned to the officer and nodded; instructing him to close the door. The officer hesitated for a moment, before closing the door; but, he finally did after a verbal command by Doctor Rae. She walked over to her desk, and placed the files on the desk; the files were marked 'confidential'.  
  
Quatre stared at Doctor Rae with questioning eyes.  
  
Doctor Rae straightened her desk and calmly sat down, looking directly into Quatre's questioning stare. She sighed quietly, as she took her coat off. "I pulled the files and police reports, as well as the forensic reports from your case." She uttered, finally breaking the silence Quatre so dearly despised, with a passion. "It will help me to understand, and fill in the blanks."  
  
Quatre sat forward, his watercolored eyes dilated slightly. "Could you tell me their names?"  
  
Doctor Rae sat back in her black leather chair. "I'm not sure if that is such a good idea, Quatre."  
  
Quatre's eyes begged to know the names of those he lived with.  
  
Doctor Rae sighed, sitting forward. "Do you think that you can..."  
  
"I want to know; I need to know." He begged.  
  
"Alright," Doctor Rae opened one of the files. "I'll give you the names as you talk."  
  
Quatre sighed, sitting back in the leather chez-louge. "Agreed."  
  
"You can continue when you feel comfortable." Doctor Rae grabbed her ball point pen and prepared to write. "The name of the man you encountered in the study, according to the Police records, was named 'Heero Yuy'."  
  
Quatre's expression melted from his face, as the name 'Heero Yuy' sunk into his mind. "Yes," he hissed softly. "That was the name of the first." Quatre sat forward, keeping his spine as straight as possible, without slouching. "I walked down the hallway, still clutching onto the weapon I used to attack H..." Quatre hesitated to speak Heero's name. His mind froze, and the pronousiation slipped into his overprotective subconscious.  
  
"Heero," Doctor Rae whispered Heero's name as Quatre struggled to remember the name.  
  
"Yes," Quatre mouthed. "I felt the wound in my heart deepen with each step I took. The darkness in my soul ate me whole, and my mind screamed for one thing."  
  
"And what was that?" Doctor Rae lifted her head.  
  
Quatre gazed at the Doctor. His watercolored eyes turned to ice; but, a slight hint of pure sorrow and shame remained. The room grew dark; darker then on the darkest of days. Doctor Rae shuddered, almost dropping the pen on the floor. Quatre's spine straightened, however, his head remained bowed slightly.  
  
"My mind screamed to hear 'their' pain." Quatre growled coldly; his expression remained frozen, unmoving, emotionless... cold. "I could hear 'their' voices coming from the living room. I felt a rush in my boiling blood. I wanted to finish what I had started." Quatre rose for the chez- louge, and walked towards the window, then turned to Doctor Rae. "I walked towards the stairs, and I heard a soft hiss behind me. I never expected for her to be there; she told me that she had things to tend to, and wouldn't be back for hours."  
  
"She?" Doctor Rae raised her brow, as she fumbled through the Police records. "A woman was never found at the crime scene; although there was an unknown smear in the upper lobby staircase."  
  
Quatre's eyes seemed to fall to the floor, as he turned to the outer world that he would never see again. "She couldn't have known that I held the bloody weapon in my clenched fist." He began again.  
  
Doctor Rae was on the edge of her seat. She watched intently as Quatre spoke in detail about what he remembered of that 'fateful day'.  
  
"I remember telling her to leave, and I'm pretty sure that she did. Then," he paused, as his eyes began to well with tears.  
  
Doctor Rae sat forward, captivated by Quatre's words... his heart... his emotion. She anxiously waited for Quatre to continue, as her right leg began to shake.  
  
Quatre sensed her anxiousness, and instinctively turned to her. "One of 'then' came out of the living room. I remember looking into his eyes. I saw myself in them; I saw what he believed to be perfect innocence. I saw everything he thought he loved, everything he longed for." He forced a slight, soft smile, then turned to the window. The sun was inching slowly towards the horizon; although it was early afternoon, Quatre felt time was passing too slowly; he felt like it was forever the stroke of midnight. A never-ending darkness that loomed through the deep recesses of his mind; both conscious and subconscious.  
  
"I must admit," Quatre went on. "I wanted him too; but, I couldn't spare him." He whispered in a barely audible tone.  
  
Doctor Rae raised her head, staring blankly at the blond Arab, clad in bright orange, and a number that replaced his name.  
  
"He only saw a fairy tale in me." He clarified. "He only saw what he believed to be true."  
  
"And what was that?" she asked, almost forgetting her notes.  
  
"She saw what he thought needed protecting; he saw a..." he paused for a moment, pondering the correct word for this... "dream." He finished.  
  
"A dream?"  
  
"That's precise, Doctor." Quatre turned to her. "Now, I don't remember if he said anything to me; and if he did, I did not hear it, nor read it." Quatre's expression melted from his Arab face. Just like it had done, just before he described the death, or rather, murder of Heero Yuy. "I can read lips pretty well; and on that day, I just didn't want to be the one always listening, or reading. I don't know what I had done to him; but, he, as well as the first, died with his eyes open. The color of his eyes still haunt me to this very day; as do the eyes of the others." He walked towards the shelves, scanning the spines of the books; not memorizing the titles of the countless spines and faces.  
  
Doctor Rae couldn't help but feel a slight pain in her heart as Quatre spoke in detail about what he could recall; down to the last trivial fiber. At the same time she could feel her soul sinking, as she listened intently to Quatre's every lingering word. His expressions of any kind of joy or happiness from the past twenty minutes had been forced, or mocked into realism. In truth, since Quatre's mental death, he lost all human feeling, aside from shame, he knew no other emotions. Even the feeling of sorrow was fleeing his torn and broken mind.  
  
"All color since that first death seemed now to turn a deep crimson red, that was blood." He snarled slightly when the word 'blood' past his pale red lips. "Not even the color of his eyes could hide from my blood filled gaze." He turned back to window; however, he remained standing at the bookshelves. "I could now hear the pelting of small hail against the doors and windows." He stepped forward, but hesitated to move any further then that. "I gazed out the window beside the door, completely unaware that my clothes were soaked with blood and my own tears.  
  
"I heard the voices from the living room, growing louder and more restless. I cautiously walked to the living room. I knew that I did not carry the weapon I used to attack the first two; so I went to the kitchen, and took the sharpest knife I could find. I then went to the living room. There were tow there, watching TV; although, I do not remember what they were watching." Quatre finally moved from his frozen stance, and walked towards the chez-louge; but, did not sit down. "One of them seemed to freeze at the sight of blood on my shirt. He said something that seemed to make my condition even worse. I ran forward, and the sound of the hail on against the house echoed through my ears, drowning out the sounds of his screams and his dying breath blown on my face." He turned his head to the window, his expression formless, and virtually non-existent. His eyes began to shed small tears that were seemingly difficult to contain. "Again I saw myself in the eyes of the dead." He turned to Doctor Rae, his face went with the fleeing tears. His eyes burned and they became bloodshot. "I heard the other scowl. He grabbed my shoulders, shaking the bloody knife out of my hand. I felt my hands stiffen, as they rose to his dark neck. I watched as my finger clamp and lock around his slender neck."  
  
Doctor Rae's heart sunk to her stomach, as she listened intently to Quatre's story. Her eyes widened, while her mind memorized every word that past from Quatre's pale red lips.  
  
"He was the only one that I remember killing with my bare hands. I watched his life drain from his face, and for some reason it encouraged my hands to clamp tighter, and tighter; until..." he paused, as he acted out how his hands clamped around the neck of the man he remembered killing.  
  
"Until what, Quatre?" Doctor Rae encouraged Quatre's response.  
  
"Until the life, and glow drained from his dark ebony eyes." Quatre's voice rattled and stuttered between words. The tears in his eyes stung his face and pooled at the corners of his lips. His tongue creeped out of his mouth, and swept away the tiny pool. "I saw the expression on my face in his darkened, lifeless gaze."  
  
"What did you see?" Doctor Rae jotted a quick note.  
  
"I saw the one thing I feared most."  
  
"And what would that be?"  
  
"A murderer." Quatre whispered. "When I realized what I had done, it was already too late. My hands turned to mush, and the man I had killed fell to the floor. I gazed down at his limb, lifeless form. I knelt down and closed his eyes, then placed two coins on the lids of his eyes. I shuffled back to the lobby, and I saw her. She had come back." He sat down on the chez- louge, the tears pouring down his Arab face. "Her blue eyes were dilated, and her form frozen in front of the lifeless body at her feet.  
  
"The thunder crashed and boomed, while a bolt of bright lighting blew the breakers. The lights died, and the lighting became the only light; the thunder the only sound, other then her heavy horrified breathing, with a slight sob and a shudder.  
  
"I grew terrified, and lunged forward. I heard myself snarling, as my blood stained fingers grabbed her long blond hair. I pulled her down to the crimson pool, that slowly slid towards my feet. I felt the weapon I had lost, and slid it between my fingers, to the palm of my hand. I first gripped the weapon, as I pulled her head back towards my shoulder. I could hear her sobbing in my ears, and her tears rolled off her face and onto my blood soaked shirt.  
  
"She struggled violently, only breaking away from my grasp momentarily. She dashed up the stairs, nearly tripping over the body. I followed her, and seized her hair, at the top of the stairs. I blacked out what happened next; but when I finally woke, she was dead. Hers were the only eyes that were not open when she died. And I am glad that they weren't. For her eyes would've haunted me.  
  
"I dragged her dead body to the stairs, then carried her to the back yard. I dug a grave in the garden, where I was planing on planting the Rose bushes. I carefully placed her body in the grave, said a prayer; then filled in the grave. When I was finished that, I planted the Rose bushes.  
  
"She loved Roses, so I thought it would be appropriate if I planted the bushes on her grave; that way her love for Roses would never die." Quatre sighed heavily, staring out at the shadowed bars on the floor. "I wonder how those Rose bushes are doing?" he whispered softly, then rose from the chez-louge. "I remember walking to each body, and gazing into their cold, lifeless stare. I closed each of their eyes and placed two coins on their eyelids.  
  
"The last body I visited was the body in the study. I crawled up beside the lifeless form, and I think I fell to sleep. The next thing I remember was being awoken by the Police. They asked me what had happened, thinking that I had just returned home. I told them that I thought I had killed them. They took me to the Police station; but, I wouldn't talk; I was too afraid, and terrified to even speak of the crime. I just sat there rocking back and forth, mumbling inane words; not even I knew what I was saying. All I knew was that I had killed five of my closest friends, and didn't know why. Now," Quatre turned to Doctor Rae. "I know why I had killed 'them'."  
  
"Why did you kill them?" Doctor Rae asked, still writing her notes.  
  
"I killed 'them' because 'they' sea innocence in me, and I wanted to prove to 'them' that I wasn't the innocent person that 'they' thought I was. 'They' harassed me for it, and I was hurt because of it; and for that I will be wounded until the day I die." His eyes expressed a deep unseen pain in his soul. "But, then again, by that 'fateful day' I was already dead. Death seemed to enjoy my pain and my sorrow. It fed on my fears, and fed the flames of my rage, deep in my heart. It seemed to want me alone; to want me in utter solitude." He gazed into Doctor Rae's deep blue eyes. "So, Doctor, what is your conclusion?"  
  
Doctor Rae jotted a quick note, then placed the pen on the desk. "I was only to draw a conclusion on weather or not your eligible for parole. But I do have one more question?"  
  
Quatre sat down on the chez-lounge, waiting for her question.  
  
"Do you want to know what you did to your victims?"  
  
Quatre's eyes dilated. "Yes!" he retorted quickly.  
  
Doctor Rae grabbed the files. "According to the Police files, the story you told me is accurate, and it explains the mysterious smear in the front lobby staircase. As for the forensic report," she opened the second file, placing it on top of the Police reports. "The first body, which was identified as Heero Yuy, had been stabbed several times in the chest; and had defensive wounds on his hands. He was killed by tow stabs to the heart." She flipped through a few papers, to the next report on the second victim. "The second victim, identified as Trowa Barton, had three stab wounds to his chest, a laceration on his face, and defensive wounds on his hands." She turned a couple of pages to the next report. "The third and fourth victims, identified as Duo Maxwell, and Wufei Chang, had lacerations on their hands. Duo had several stab wounds in his chest, and no defensive wounds. Wufei Chang had lacerations on his neck, and skin under his nails. As for the fifth victim, she was never found."  
  
Quatre sighed heavily, he wanted, no longed to know the name of the woman he killed. His shame grew, lodging itself onto his bleeding heart.  
  
"We're finished here, Quatre." Doctor Rae closed the files, as the door opened. The two officers walked into the office, and cuffed Quatre, using the advise the receptionist gave them. They escorted Quatre out of the building.  
  
It was sunset; the buildings turned a beautiful shade of golden yellow, and red-orange. The press ambushed them, demanding answers; however, Quatre remained silent. He felt that it was safer if they did not know the truth; he just found out the truth after countless years of forcing himself to remember. He felt that it was fair to the public to see him as a sorrowful murderer, rather then a person who prided himself in the pain and suffering of human life. His heart dropped, and bleed even more when he thought of himself as a murderer; cold-hearted, merciless... blood thirsty.  
  
He was placed in the cruiser, keeping his head bowed, and out of the presses gossip thirsty cameras. The officers pushed through the crowd, and got into the vehicle. The car drove down the street, into the red-orange and golden sunset. As they drove, Quatre raised his heavy head, closing his eyes and allowing the sunset to kiss his tear stained face. He would return to the cold, dampened, cell that was now his home; his life, his death... his fate.  
  
He dropped his head, knowing the nightmares that lurked in the darkness of his cell. "Shinigami, I know that you wait for me in the deep recesses of my heart. You've followed me in my life, up to this point; and now I ask you to come and claim my broken soul. You've wanted this for a long time. You've taken my father, my mother, and my sister; now is your chance to come and take me." Quatre whispered to himself.  
  
He was returned to his cell, minus the jeers and threats. The silence was deafening. Quatre hugged his bony knees, laying in his bunk. His eyes were open, as he waited for Shinigami to come for him.  
  
A thick white mist seeped through the cell window, and the cracks in the wall. Quatre sat up, as a spirit manifested in front of him. It manifested into one of the men that he had loved in the past; in manifested into Duo Maxwell.  
  
Quatre threw himself at his feet, sobbing uncontrollably, as he clutched Duo's pants. "Forgive me," he begged between sobs.  
  
Duo gazed down at the shaking mortal at his feet. "Why do you beg my forgiveness?" he asked.  
  
Quatre stared up at Duo. "Don't you remember?" his eyes begged for the response. The tears burned his face, as they continued to pour from his eyes.  
  
Duo pulled Quatre up off the floor wrapping his arms around him. He placed Quatre's head on his shoulder, running his fingers through Quatre's blond hair. "Shh," he hissed softly. "There is nothing to forgive, Quatre." He whispered.  
  
"I killed you," Quatre raised his head, staring into Duo's violet eyes. "I need to be forgiven; to ease the hole in my heart. Please, forgive me." The tears rolled down Quatre's face, and down his neck. "Forgive me,"  
  
A slight smile appeared on Duo's American face. "If that is what you wish." He whispered softly.  
  
Quatre hugged Duo tightly, taking in his sent. His slender fingers slid down Duo's braid.  
  
"I've come to take you to your final resting place; away from here." Duo whispered softly. "You preyed for it, and it has been granted, Quatre," Duo pulled Quatre back, gazing into Quatre's watercolored eyes. "Will you come?"  
  
"Yes!" Quatre answered immediately. "Yes, yes, I'll come. I don't want to be here anymore, Duo. Take me away." He begged, dropping to Duo's feet. "I beg you; take me away from here. Free my spirit from the pain."  
  
Duo touched Quatre's head. "Raise your head to the Heavens and close your eyes." He instructed. "And will your spirit to a better place." He dropped to the floor, placing his hand on Quatre's now bare chest. He placed his hand on the very spot where his heart rested.  
  
COOL BREEZE AND AUTUMN LEAVES  
  
SLOW MOTION DAYLIGHT  
  
A LONE PAIR OF WATCHFUL EYES  
  
OVERSEE THE LIVING  
  
Quatre could feel a cool gentle breeze against his Arabian face. It blew through his blond hair, and dried his tears.  
  
FEEL THE PRESENCE ALL AROUND  
  
A TORTURED SOUL  
  
A WOUND UNHEALING  
  
NO REGRETS OR PROMISES  
  
The sent of Roses past by them. Quatre kept his eyes closed, as the cool breeze sealed the wound in his heart, and filled the hole in his soul.  
  
THE PAST IS GONE  
  
BUT YOU CAN STILL BE FREE  
  
IF TIME WILL SET YOU FREE  
  
Quatre could now hear the gentle lapping of waves against the cliffs, the smell of the sea air filled his nostrils. The wind past by his ears; the tears gone, and his heart and soul now healed.  
  
TIME NOW TO SPREAD YOUR WINGS  
  
TO TAKE TO FLIGHT  
  
THE LIFE ENDEAVOR  
  
Quatre could feel his life ebb slowly, as he past over the sea.  
  
AIM FOR THE BURNING SUN  
  
YOU'RE TRAPPED INSIDE  
  
BUT YOU CAN STILL BE FREE  
  
IF TIME WILL SET YOU FREE  
  
BUT IT'S A LONG LONG WAY TO GO  
  
Quatre could see a bright light within the darkness of his mind. It consumed him, as the darkness had many years ago.  
  
KEEP MOVING WAY UP HIGH  
  
YOU SEE THE LIGHT  
  
IT SHINES FOREVER  
  
The light became brighter, as he drew closer to his destination.  
  
"Just a little further, Quatre." Duo whispered, still holding Quatre.  
  
SAIL THROUGH THE CRIMSON SKIES  
  
THE PUREST LIGHT  
  
THE LIGHT THAT SETS YOU FREE  
  
IF TIME WILL SET YOU FREE  
  
Quatre could now feel the heat that he had never felt before. His heart pounded in his chest, as his breathing ebbed.  
  
SAIL THROUGH THE WIND AND RAIN TONIGHT  
  
YOU'RE FREE TO FLY TONIGHT  
  
AND YOU CAN STILL BE FREE  
  
IF TIME WILL SET YOU FREE  
  
The wind became stronger, blowing Duo's long braid out, and into Quatre's face.  
  
AND GO HIGHER THAN MOUNTAIN TOPS  
  
AND GO HIGH THE WIND DON'T STOP  
  
AND GO HIGH  
  
FREE TO FLY TONIGHT  
  
FREE TO FLY TONIGHT  
  
"Quatre," Duo whispered softly. "Open your eyes." He instructed.  
  
Quatre opened his eyes, blinded slightly by the light. He shielded his eyes; gazing out at the plain before him. He was still in his cell; but it was brighter and warmer. He stared down at the limp body at his feet. Its face was white, its lips were blue, and wet tears stained its face. However, the expression was not full of sorrow; it was an expression of relief, and joy.  
  
He gazed at Duo, with a hopeful sparkle in his watercolored eyes. "Am I..."  
  
Duo nodded. "You preyed to be taken, so I took you away. You're free now, Quatre." Duo uttered softly. "All the pain is gone; your heart is healed, your mind opened, and your spirit freed."  
  
Quatre smiled. Now for the first time in years, Quatre was happy. It was a feeling that he long forgotten; but, longed for in his dreams, and stolen by the darkness in his nightmares.  
  
"Thank-you," Quatre hugged Duo tightly. "Thank-you for freeing me," he gazed into Duo's violet eyes. "And thank-you for forgiving me."  
  
Duo placed his hand on Quatre's head. "We can now rest in peace, for eternity, Quatre. The expression on your body's face, is thanks enough for me."  
  
Quatre's smile grew, as he listened to Duo speak.  
  
"Now let us go to our new home." Duo took Quatre in his arm, and they left with the mists, and returned to the light, that eventually frees all the souls from the plain of sorrow and darkness.  
  
THE END 


End file.
